Along Came Mary
by Somekiddo
Summary: Mary was safe, comfortable, sane. Yet she wants a threesome with Sherlock, and John wants it too. Johnlock, F/M, F/M/M, M/M. Now with a smutty epilogue
1. Chapter 1

Along came Mary. She was pretty, but not in an overwhelming way, not the kind of beauty that makes you weak in the knees and dizzy. She was the kind of pretty that made you smile after a long day at the clinic. The kind of pretty that was safe, home. She was also kind and reassuring, and very, very patient. John had never met anyone as tolerant and nice as her.

He almost didn't ask for her number when he saw her at the coffee shop down the street. He was there hiding from Sherlock. He wasn't kidding himself, of course Sherlock knew where he was, but he wasn't home and that's what mattered. Another woman, Jill or Jean, John's wasn't sure, had just dumped him because of Sherlock. It was their third date, and Sherlock knew, he had to know that John was planning to ask her to stay over. Which was why he was surprised to find Sherlock sprawled naked on the couch when he opened the door. He was also sure Sherlock had heard their steps, two pairs, going up the stairs to their flat, and yet he had done nothing to cover himself.

His breath caught. He was probably staring, but the vast expanse of pale skin before him had him glued to the point. He felt familiar warmth in his groin start to grow and shook his head, trying to snap himself out of it. Jenna or Jane looked at him once, then at Sherlock and walked out the door. He wanted to run after her, but had nothing to say to his wasn't like it was the first time Sherlock had interrupted their date. So instead he stormed out and went to the coffee shop.

He had just had about enough. He thought of moving out, but he knew he couldn't. The thrill was keeping him at Sherlock's side, no matter how many relationships or just chances to get laid he'd ruined. Then, he contemplated not dating anymore. Not even trying, knowing Sherlock will find a way to end it before he got anything out of it. Then Mary came in.

He was instantly drawn to her, all smiles and curves, but stopped himself from making a move, barely half an hour after Janet had stormed off. Then, she approached the counter and ordered tea. Something snapped inside him when he saw her do something as unusual as order tea at a coffee shop. That single act made her look interesting, different, exciting.

He approached the counter just as the tender was giving her the drink. "May I?"he asked, placing a fiver next to the cup. She smiled at him and took the cup, placing it on the table he had just sat on. He smiled back.

The first time Sherlock had interrupted their date with a "Case. Come at once. SH" Mary raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. She didn't ignore John when he called her later that night and didn't even ask for an explanation, though she deserved one.

The first night she stayed over Sherlock decided 4 a.m. was a perfect time to practice violin. Modern pieces. She curled up closer to him and hid her face in the crook of his neck, but said nothing. She seemed to just get it, somehow.

They saw Sherlock in the morning. He focused his intense gaze on her, probably gathering more information on her than John knew, some that she might not even know herself. John visibly cringed, knowing it was going to end just like that. She was going to hear what Sherlock had to say and run away. Sherlock opened his mouth. John glared at it, whishing it to just close. "Good morning, miss Morstan" said Sherlock, then grabbed his tea and made to leave. He brushed past John. "She's lovely" he whispered into his ear, so quietly John wasn't sure if he'd imagined the whole thing.

After a month, she was spending more time at 221B than in her own flat.

After three, she was allowed to accompany them on a case.

For Sherlock's birthday, she got him a new skull. Female. Sherlock nodded his appreciation. John didn't ask her how she got it.

She was Mary, she was his and he was happy.

One night, they were having sex. She was, for the most part, and John was under her, enjoying the show. They had stopped trying to be silent a while ago, when Sherlock said he heard anyway and didn't care.

John groaned as she sunk unto him once more. He was so close; it would only take a few more strokes for it to be over. She then leaned down to kiss him. "I have something I'd like to try out" she said, her voice a breathy whisper. "Anything" John moaned into her mouth, too far gone to care if she wanted to hang him upside down and whip him. She slid off him and crawled back, setting her head between his legs. He propped himself up on an elbow to see what she was doing. However, when she licked him from base to tip he threw his head back with a moan, closing his eyes.

"God!" he cried, when she took him fully into her mouth. This was nothing new, but he was happy to accept it anyway. Then, he felt her finger behind his balls, massaging him. He was so close already and the added sensation did nothing but bring him closer to the edge. Then, he felt he finger move backward, nearing his hole. He didn't have time to panic before she slid it in him and started angling it. He was about to protest when he felt her touch something, and then it was all over and he was cumming into her mouth, and she was swallowing him eagerly.

When he opened his eyes a few minutes later, she was next to him again, a huge grin on her face. Without thinking he leaned to kiss her, tasting himself on her lips. "Why did you do that?"he asked, making sure not to look angry. She had asked and he did enjoy it, so there was no point getting in a fight over this. "I was just wondering…" she said, playfully placing her hand on his chest, "If you might be into trying out one of my fantasies". She bit he lower lip and looked up at him, with just a hint of teasing in her eyes. John wasn't sure how to react. Considering what she had just done, it probably had to do with that area of his body. Though he had enjoyed it, he wasn't exactly ready for her to buy a dildo and flip him over. He just had to ask though "well, that depends on what it is" he asked timidly, curiosity evident in his voice.

She leaned closer to him, practically talking into his mouth and whispered "I want to try a threesome".

John recoiled into the pillow. This was not what he was expecting. He thought she might really last, become a constant in his life. Now, she wanted to see other people. "What's his name?" he asked. She looked puzzled. "Who?"

"That new guy you're with. It's fine, you know. You don't have to explain yourself to me. You can just go". He was expecting her to get her things and bolt through the door. Instead, she reached over and hugged him to her chest.

"There's no one, you bit git. Of course there's only you, who do you think I am?"

"Then why do you want a threesome? Isn't it just an excuse to have sex with another guy?"

"No! though I'll admit, thinking about you with a guy.." she smirked

"Me? what do you mean me?" John said rapidly, backing into the wall.

"You didn't think I'd have all the fun, did you? I want it to be an experience for both of us"

She put a hand on him arm, and he relaxed into her touch. "I don't think I want some random guy touching you the way only I'm allowed to, seeing you like this. Let alone touching me".

She placed he head on his bare chest. "It doesn't have to be a random guy." She said simply, completely missing what he said. He was taken aback at first, but then, just out of pure curiosity he asked "Like whom?"

"Someone we both know, it can't be one sided. A friend, someone we can both trust. He has to be detached enough so as not to get attached to either of us. Not gay, but not totally straight either".

John wasn't stupid, but he had to try "How about Tom, that friend of yours who was at Sherlock's party?"

"Happily married. Do you think he's hot?"she teased, ticking him a little. "No!"John yelped. "He's a nice bloke, that's all! Ouch! no!"

They continued the tickle fight for a bit, then lay back on the bed. "You want _him_, right?"He asked, knowing she'd understand who he was talking about. "Yes" she replied "But only if you're comfortable with it. I'd never do it without you".

"He'll say no"

"You don't know that until you ask"

"Fine, I'll ask".

She smiled and curled up against him. Soon they both fell asleep.

In the morning, Sherlock was nowhere to be found. John checked his messages but found none. He just began thinking the whole thing over when his phone vibrated in his hand "At the morgue. Bunch of idiots. I'll be home by noon. SH"

He sat down on the couch and opened his laptop, planning on finishing his latest blog entry, but found himself to be too agitated. He soon gave up and walked to the supermarket, pretending not to notice the fact that every C.C.T.V. camera was turning his way. He gave the one just at the entrance of the shop the finger, and walked inside. He bought some tea, a pack of condoms and milk. He was approaching the saleslady when his phone vibrated again "Don't forget the sugar. MH". He mumbled angrily under his breath but got the sugar anyway, not bothering to send Mycroft a reply.

When he got home Sherlock was on the sofa with John's laptop, presumably reading the unfinished version of his blog entry. "It's a load of rubbish!"he exclaimed when he was sure John was within ear range "I did not _swoon_ over Irene". Then, he looked up at John, his expression quickly changing to confused, then focused.

"You're nervous" he stated, eventually.

"Yes"

"And annoyed. Mycroft?" John nodded. "But then, why are anxious now? it's me. You want to tell me something" he gave John a look "No. You want to ask me something" another look "Ah."

"Ah what?" John asked angrily.

"Ah I see" Sherlock replied.

"See what?"

"What you want."

"Want?"

"Want to ask. Please stop repeating everything I say, it's tedious".

"Then what is your answer?"John asked, looking at the rug, at the ceiling, anything that isn't Sherlock's face.

Sherlock got up from the sofa and moved a step closer to John, invading his personal space. "But you didn't ask me anything" he said softly, his intense gaze fixed on John.

"Do you want me to?" John said quietly, afraid to move a muscle.

"If you want to" Sherlock said, moving even closer. John could just reach his hand and touch that face, those lips.

"Yes. Will you?"John asked, surprised to find his tone so needy and desperate.

Sherlock moved so deliciously closer to him, their faces nearly touching. Then, he said at a casual tone "Tell Mary to come by tonight".

Before John had time to grasp the meaning of what Sherlock said, that it would be happening, tonight, and had the chance to close that gap between them, Sherlock was gone. He heard the door of Sherlock's bedroom close and a soft rumbling of a machine. He stood there, dazed for a few more seconds then took out his cell and called Mary.

"John?"

He said nothing.

"John, are you there?"

He realized he had to say something or she would hang up "Yes."He croaked.

"John, is everything alright?" She asked, concerned.

"Yes" he said again "he said yes".

"Who? Oh. really?"

"Yes."

"Are you freaking out? Do you want me to come over?"

"Yes and yes".

"Do you still want this?"

"Oh god, yes".

It wasn't long before the front door opened and he was being hugged by Mary. Soft, safe Mary. He didn't know what to say but that was okay because she didn't try to make him talk. She took his hand and led him to the bed, where they snogged lazily for about an hour. It was just getting interesting; with her placing soft bites on his neck and her hands drawing little circles on his biceps when there was a knock on the door.

John froze and felt Mary do the same underneath him. They turned to the opening door and stared at what John could only describe as one of the most magnificent sights he'd ever seen: Sherlock, wearing only his briefs, his long frame leaning on the doorway, the light from outside dancing over his skin. John rose off Mary and sat back on the bed, scrambling for words. A little while later Sherlock broke the silence.

"Did I misunderstand? Was this not what you wanted?" The insecurity in his voice stabbed at John's heart.

"No, no.. This is"

"Perfect" Mary chimed in. John had nearly forgotten about her. He turned to her. "Yes".

"Come here" She motioned. Sherlock, never a guy to take orders, walked the three steps between the door and the bad, closing the door behind him. As John's eyes adjusted to the darkness he looked over Sherlock's body, amazed at how fragile it looked, like a glass statue. And a marvelous statue, at that.

Sherlock came closer to Mary and raised her chin to him. Then, he turned to John. "May I?" he asked, sincerity in his eyes. He wanted to say _Are you sure_? and _I won't take her away_. John understood. He nodded.

Sherlock bent down and put his lips against Mary's. She sighed and pulled him closer, her hands tangling in his hair. John felt a little pang of jealousy, but pushed it away. When they finally parted to breathe, Mary motioned to him to come closer. He kissed her, tasting a foreign taste on her lips. He licked it away. He heard her moan and was surprised to see Sherlock has placed himself behind her, and was kissing the back of her neck.

John grabbed the hem of Mary's shirt hand pulled it over her head. Sherlocked stopped his ministrations and helped, their hands brushing. He continued to unclasp her familiar bra, freeing her medium sized breasts. Sherlock's hands wandered to her chest and tweaked a nipple. She squeaked and arched off him, pushing herself into John's embrace. He moved his mouth to her neck and grabbed her hips, steadying her against him. Sherlock's mouth was so close to his. He looked up into those blue oceans and felt a blush on his cheeks. His hardening cock gave a little jolt of pleasure.

Mary moaned again and the sound snapped him from Sherlock's intense gaze. He licked southwards to her belly, than just a little lower- "Please John" she panted, leaning back into Sherlock. Sherlock lifted her hips and allowed John to remove her trousers and the lacy underpants with them. Any other day, he would have given them a little more attention, but today they were off and forgotten before he had the chance to even notice their color. He used his hand to expose her clit then placed a soft kiss on it. She bucked into in face, nearly screaming. Sherlock silenced her with his lips. He licked her some more then gently thrust a finger into her. He curled it inside her and she moved her hips down, trying to get him to go deeper.

He noticed Sherlock's hand beside his own, and soon Sherlock was also fingering Mary. She made a high, desperate sound "Please, JOHN!"

He backed away momentarily. Sherlock thrust another finger in to compensate for the loss. Unceremoniously, he removed his shirt and trousers. He looked at them. Mary was laying on top of Sherlock, her back to him. He was grinding against her and fingering her in an awkward position. He had never seen anything hotter in his life. Mary's head was thrown back, her eyes closed. He looked to Sherlock. His gaze was fixed on him. John places a hand at the waistband of his boxers. Sherlock nodded and watched him take his pants off. John wasn't sure, but he thought Sherlock might have gulped.

John walked back towards the bed, stopping at the bedside drawer and pulled the box of condoms out. He ripped one wrapper and put it on himself, feeling himself get harder at the touch. When he reached Mary Sherlock took his fingers out of her and placed them in his mouth, sucking on them obscenely. John swallowed as images of his cock replacing those fingers entered his mind. He wished those thought away and proceeded to enter Mary, going as slow as he could. Once he was sheathed inside her heat he waited patiently for her to signal she was ready. An agonizing minute later she finally bucked down against him and he started gentle in and out motions. He started panting, breathing into Mary's neck. It was the familiar sensation of safe, sane, Mary that engulfed him together with something new and exciting. He closed his eyes and enjoyed this mix of emotions. Then, he felt a hand on his own.

He opened his eyes and saw Sherlock looking at him. His eyes were seeking something. He looked down and saw Sherlock had a finger inside Mary's bum. "May I?" he mouthed. John appreciated the sentiment. It wasn't something he and Mary hadn't explored a while ago, and Sherlock, being Sherlock, probably knew that, but it was nice of him to ask anyway. John smiled and nodded. He heard a cap opening and saw Sherlock spreading a generous amount of lube on three of his fingers. He gradually inserted them into Mary. John was astounded. He could I _feel _it. Mary felt tighter around him, and it was so, so wonderful.

"Yes! Yes!" she screamed next to his ear, but still he could hardly hear her. All he was aware of was Sherlock, taking his briefs off, exposing his long, hard cock, that was already dripping pre-cum. John's mouth watered, and he prayed Sherlock wouldn't notice his reaction. There was no point, really, it was Sherlock.

Sherlock tore a condom wrapper and slid his hand across his cock. John felt his own cock hardening at the sight. Sherlock poured lube on himself then slowly started penetrating Mary from behind. John felt incredible tightness around his dick and looked into Sherlock's piercing gaze. His mouth was hung open and his hair was such a mess and John wanted to kiss him so, so bad. As if on que, Sherlock leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. John looked up and closed the gap between them.

The world stopped. John couldn't hear anything, couldn't see anything, couldn't feel anything except Sherlock's lips on his own. They were rougher than Mary's, and _oh, was she even here? _and yes, she was sandwiched between them, but that didn't stop from fireworks going inside his brain. He wanted more, he wanted to touch, he wanted -"Christ!"

He heard Mary scream and she was finished, shaking between them. He felt her come from inside. Sherlock's lips tightened against him and _he felt it too. _Then Sherlock moaned and that's all it took and he was cumming, and Sherlock was following suit. They collapsed on the bed, exhausted.

"Good?"Mary asked.

John looked at Sherlock, then at the ceiling.

"Bit not good, and a lot good".


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Sherlock, or there would be a lot more canon Johnlock

A/N: Thnak you for the lovely reviews. I do take you opinions into consideration, which made this chapter a lot different than what I had originally intended. R&R

When he woke up the next day Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. He looked at Mary, asleep by his side, for a moment, and then got up to make breakfast. He put his underwear on, in case Mrs. Hudson will decide to drop in unannounced. He couldn't help himself and made enough food for three. He poured two cups of orange juice (after making sure it really was orange juice), placed the food on a tray and went back to bed. He was greeted by his soft, safe Mary with a genuine smile. "Morning, dear" he said and placed the tray next to the bed. "Did you sleep well?"

"Fine. How about you?" It was obvious she was not really asking how he'd slept.

"Surprisingly well" he answered truthfully.

"Good" she said, pulling him to her. "Now how about you let me take care of that?"she said, motioning to his groin. His morning wood was evident through his tight briefs. He kissed her deeply, smiling into the kiss. "I'd like nothing more"

Mary gave great head, when she set her mind to it. It was always nice to find her in the mood. and yet, when he felt the familiar pressure in his lower half start to build, he couldn't make himself think of sweet, plain Mary. He thought of blue eyes with a spark to them and a mouth a little rough and – it was all over before he managed to conjure another image. This was not good. Not good at all.

John thought she must have noticed he wasn't very enthusiastic when he reciprocated.

She went home shortly after, saying something about a shower and a change of clothes. She'd call later.

John did a quick survey of the apartment. No Sherlock to be seen. He made a cup of tea and sat in the armchair, having no clue what he was going to do the entire day.

He ended up cleaning: washing the laundry, taking out the garbage, mopping the floor. Later he collapsed in front of the television screen and turned it on. The newscaster was describing a cult suicide: 12 found dead in an old elementary school. In the background, behind police tapes, stood one Sherlock Holmes.

John sat there for a moment, taking in the picture. Sherlock's long, lean frame was constantly moving, mumbling deductions to Lestrade, who looked dumb struck. It took him another moment to remember where he put his phone and get it, texting rapidly. "Where are you? JW"

Perhaps it was all pre-recorded. Maybe Sherlock didn't want to wake him up. Who was he kidding? Sherlock was always eager to wake him up. He saw Sherlock reach for his cell on the screen.

"Molly. Morgue. I'll be late, don't wait up. SH"

The hell he was. John felt a tug inside his stomach. He felt betrayed, by the only man he completely trusted. He shut the screen off and headed down to the bar for a drink.

He stopped counting his drinks after five. It was probably quite late when he entered 221B, but he couldn't tell exactly what time it was. Without really thinking about it he headed towards the sofa and sat down. The sofa yelped and bolted up, sending John tumbling to the floor. The sofa- no wait, that was Sherlock, was yelling at him "Christ John! It's a miracle you have the brain power to walk and breathe at the same time!"

"hnnmmph!" he yelled back "I mean, that's not fair!"

Sherlock stopped him rambling and gave John a once over. "Darn. How much did you drink? no – don't answer that". With that, he was off in the direction of his room. John tried getting off of the floor but got dizzy and fell down again. Suddenly, he was really, really, comfortable. He closed his eyes and drifted off.

He woke up with a throbbing head and his stomach was in knots, but his back didn't hurt from sleeping on the floor. Actually, his back didn't hurt at all, since he was lying on his own bed, his blanket thrown over him. He jolted up in surprise but the dizziness made him lay back down. He heard a rustle in the kitchen, and something fall. "Sherlock?" he cried.

A few moments later the tall, thin man walked into his room, carrying a broken cup. "Tea" he said, placing the broken china on the counter next to the bed.

"What the hell happened yesterday, Sherlock?"John asked, his voice a little angrier than he intended.

Sherlock was startled. "What on earth do you mean?"

"Where were you all day? Why didn't you text me?"

"I did text you. I said I was at the morgue with Molly, not that I owe you an explanation. Then you came home drunk and sat on me"

"Right. It doesn't matter. Forget it" John turned his gaze to the wall.

Sherlock got up to leave the room. As he was nearing the door John said "wait. I didn't mean you should go. Ask me what's wrong"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow "You just told me to forget it. Make up your mind, for goodness' sake."

"Why did you lie to me yesterday? I saw you on T.V." John gave Sherlock the most serious look he could conjure.

"Ah. Just an uninteresting case. Your assistance was not needed."

"The hell it wasn't. You were avoiding me. Why? It was that thing with Mary, right?"John couldn't stop himself "you hate me now, right?"

Sherlock sighed. "Are you still drunk, because it sure sounds like it. I don't _hate _you, John"

"Then tell me what it was"

"I said it was nothing! Wasn't even a cult, really. The works of a single serial killer"

"Then if you're really comfortable and nothing's the matter, let's call Mary, shall we? ask her for a re-do?" John took his phone as if to dial Mary's number, knowing he won't have to.

"Don't!"

"Aha!"Exclaimed John, turning his phone off "now would you tell me what the matter is?"

and then the sky came crushing down, because Sherlock Holmes was kissing him.

Sherlock's lips were a little softer than he remembered, moving wonderfully against his own. He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, and leaned into the kiss. Then, Sherlock made the most delicious sound and parted his lips, giving John access. John didn't think twice before slipping his tongue into Sherlock's mouth, trying to feel as much of him as he possibly could. Sherlock's tongue was moving and it all felt so _right _but it was also wrong, and he really should call Mary. "Mary" he said aloud.

"To hell with Mary" answered Sherlock, leaning back in. John moved his head back. "I can't, Sherlock" he panted "I'm with Mary".

"Invite her over, if you must."

"Really?"

"Don't make me repeat myself, John, It's awfully boring"

John grabbed his phone again and dialed Mary's number. Meanwhile, Sherlock attacked John's neck, sucking red marks on his skin. "M-Mary" he started, trying to steady his voice.

"John, are you alright?"

John let out a gasp as Sherlock bit his next "F-fine. Why don't you come over, there's something Sherlock and I would like to – Ahh – show you"

He could practically hear the smirk in her voice "I'll be right over. Say hi to Sherlock for me"

John hung up the phone and attached himself to Sherlock's lips once more. He bit Sherlock's lower lip, sucking on it lightly, and then moved his head back an inch "Mary says hi".

Sherlock made a guttural sound and pulled John back in by his collar.

When Mary climbed the last few steps to 221 B, she heard everything. Her first thought was she'd have to get Mrs. Hudson something nice after all the nights she spent at the apartment with John. Her second thought was she was missing the show. She bolted up the last few steps and entered the flat, quickly making her way over to John's bedroom. She was greeted by a marvelous sight. Sherlock was on top of John, pinning his hands above his head, kissing him eagerly. Both of their arousals where evident through their trousers and she could feel her own underwear dampening. Not wanting to interrupt, she grabbed a chair and sat, facing the bed.

Finally, John noticed her presence. He stopped the kiss and turned to her, a blush creeping into his cheeks. "Oh, don't mind me, I'm enjoying the show" she said "Though I would enjoy it a little more if you didn't have so many clothes on".

John saw her wink at Sherlock and then he was being lifted off the bed. His jumper and shirt were off in an instant, and Mary was already working on his zipper. He watched Sherlock remove his own shirt and trousers. Satisfied, Mary stepped back again. She whispered something into Sherlock's ear, to which he granted no response and then she said aloud "Carry on".

John wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. Last night was all about Mary. They were barely together. Now, it was all them, and Mary seemed to approve. Suddenly, he felt Sherlock's lips leave his own. They moved downwards, to his neck again, on which bruises were already forming. Then, he did the inconceivable: he moved downward and caught a nipple in his teeth. John cried out at the jolt of electricity that went through his body. He arched off the bed into Sherlock's mouth. John mentally scolded himself. He was acting like a hormonal teenager, not a very experienced man. He felt Sherlock chuckle into his chest. Sherlock's tongue did wonderful things, exploring his abdomen together with his hand. He placed light kisses and licks on every exposed piece of skin. Sherlock kissed his bicep, and fluttered with his tongue across his scar. John's breath hitched. He'd never let anyone but Mary touch him there. Sherlock didn't even ask. He just took, as he always did. Surprisingly, John found himself willing to give.

Sherlock moved his ministrations southwards. John felt as if he was about to explode. He felt Sherlock's hardness against his shin. He was so close, just a little more and - "Christ! Sherlock!" he yelped as Sherlock freed his erection from his briefs. He was already hard and leaking. Just like the rest of his body, Sherlock gave the tip of his dick a tentative kiss, then a tiny lick. John buck involuntarily forward. He saw Sherlock smile and then he did the most wonderful thing: took him in his mouth.

John couldn't stop the cry that left his lips. He was engulfed y so much heat and that fantastic, brilliant, talented tongue was making him see stars. Two strong hands on his hips prevented him from thrusting into that lovely mouth. John tried to open the eyes he didn't even realize he closed and was astounded by the sight of _those _lips stretched tight around him. He knew he wouldn't last much longer.

"Sherlock – I'm" he tried to warn and then Sherlock _moaned _and it was all done. He saw white and pleasure washed over him. He was barely aware of Mary's moans on the armchair, her hand rapidly moving across her clit or of Sherlock, grinding against the bed in a few final thrusts. He was literally blissed out.

Mary noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. She focused her gaze on Sherlock, making his way towards the door. Quickly, she got up and managed to grab his hand. He turned towards her, startled. "Stay" she mouthed, and led him with her to the bed. She lay on John's left, and Sherlock took John's right, their hands connected above him. He gave her hand a small squeeze, and then she drifted off.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Sherlock's not mine, don't pour salt on my wounds.

A/n: Well ,this is the final chapter, at least for now. If you have any suggestions review, I promise I'll at least consider it, or write an AU with it. Enjoy.

Sherlock woke up in an un-familiar bed. His first thought was that he was drugged and kidnapped, because:

a. He wasn't in his room

b. Sherlock never, ever slept.

According to the angle of the shadows on the ceiling, it was nearly 8 a.m., and from what he could remember it was only around two when he... _oh. _This was John's bed. He risked a sideways glance and yes, that was John. Christ, how did he get himself into this mess? It wasn't that he was asexual and didn't enjoy it, because he clearly did. Quite the opposite: he enjoyed it too much. He'd had sexual encounters before, being an attractive young male in modern-day London, how could he have avoided it? But it never was like _that. _

Sucking John, taking him apart, finding out what he liked and where he was sensitive was gratifying in a way he could not have imagined.

He was fond of John for a while, but knew his desires were unrequited. He had regretted rejecting John right at the beginning; maybe if he had not done it – but he had. He had thought he could control himself, ignore his human urges like he did eating and sleeping. They were useless. Yet now, when he was allowed a glimpse into the wonderful world of John, he didn't want to stop. There was so much data to collect! He wanted to record every muscle, every nerve ending, find out how many ways there were to make John moan his name.

Then there was the question of Mary. Plain, boring, simple Mary. Sherlock had to admit she was perfect for John: she was grounded and sane, tolerant and everything Sherlock was not, and could never be for him. He had meant it when he'd told John she was fantastic; he had yet to meet a woman so fitting of John's needs. Yet she was not what Sherlock wanted.

He allowed himself, for a moment, to picture another life where it would be just John and him. John would be his and there would be no more "John and Sarah", "John and Lily" no more "and". He realized, of course, that it was impossible for John to want him as much as he did John. He'd only hurt himself by staying.

Just as Sherlock made to rise, he noticed his hand was still tangled in Mary's. He silently prayed the jerking motion hadn't waked her up. He looked to her to find a pair of light eyes staring back. He cursed the same lord he had just prayed to under his breath. He tried to release her fingers and rise, but she got up with him, and followed him outside.

"Sherlock" she greeted.

"Miss Morstan" he shot back.

"I think we should talk"

Sherlock mentally groaned. He could just see exactly how it would go: she'd tell him to stay away from John, he'd promise not go near that bedroom again. She wouldn't be satisfied and ask him to move out, make John choose. The thought made him cringe.

"He loves you, you know" she said simply, not trying to escape Sherlock's prying gaze.

"Yes. I am aware of that fact". He knew John was somehow emotionally attached to him, not that it ever prevented him from hitting on women like Mary.

"I won't try to take him away from you, Sherlock"

Sherlock looked up at her in surprise. This was not how this was supposed to go.

She continued: "I think we should learn how to share. I know you're not that into me but I think we can work something out, right?"

Something snapped in him when she said that. He felt hot blood rushing through his veins, everything alive and throbbing. She came closer to him. He could feel her breath on his throat.

"I'm impressed" he said "You know he likes me, but just like everything else I did to push you away from him, it just makes you hold on tighter. You weighed your options and reached a logical solution: sharing. There's just one thing you didn't factor in"

He leaned in even closer to her "I DO NOT share".

"What are you saying, then? He clearly likes us both. Are you just going to leave him because he wants me too?"

Sherlock thought he was about to do just that, after the first night. He was very close to doing it again last night. Now, he felt jealousy pumping through his vein, and knew that he wouldn't, couldn't leave John.

"No. I'll fight"

"What are you proposing?"

When he said he'd fight he had no idea what he would do. When she asked, though, it was crystal clear.

"An experiment, of sorts. It involves you, and John, obviously"

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"I'm assuming you've read John's blog?"She nodded "Then you know that in order to locate Irene's safe we turned on the fire alarm." another nod "There are certain situations, in which a person truly reveals himself. One is great danger, the other, great pleasure. I'm sure you've heard of instances where a person cried out their lover's name while in bed with their legitimate partner; a cause of many fall-outs. You see, when a man is aroused in such a manner it is very hard for him to hide the truth"

"Then you're suggesting…?"

"Blindfolding John. Preventing him from touching us by, say, tying him up. Giving him pleasure and seeing whose name he cries out more times in bliss. The other person will scatter away. John, obviously, must be kept in the dark, so as not to interfere with the results. Am I understood?"

He really thought she'd say no and retreat to the bedroom when a devious smirk appeared on her face "Definitely. How does tonight sound?"

He tried to hide the relief that washed over him "Perfect".

John woke up at half past nine to an empty bed. He had a quick shower then headed down to the clinic, running late to his shift. Sarah raised an eyebrow but didn't bother scolding him. There were so many instances where he had to run out of the clinic chasing Sherlock, he didn't bother with excuses anymore. _Not so many mornings I slept in due to an incredible orgasm _he thought, unconsciously tracing the marks Sherlock left on his neck.

It had been an incredible night, even more so than the first one. It was amazing that Sherlock initiated contact with him, touched him, _wanted _to touch him. It was unconceivable that Mary let it happen and even enjoyed the sight.

John found it hard to focus on his patients. All he could think of was the things he had done and what he wanted to do. Would Mary let him touch Sherlock? Maybe even suck him, as Sherlock had done to him? He didn't know how he could even bring it. He wasn't freaked out that Sherlock was a man. John was generally straight, but Sherlock was an exception to everything else in his life, so why not this, too?

Back at the flat, Sherlock was pacing back and forth. He was running different scenarios through his mind, trying to predict, in any way, the outcome of this experiment. Mary will come by later, a little before John got home. John. What would Sherlock do if he'd have to lose him? Wouldn't it be better to just share him with Mary? Sherlock mentally scolded himself for not taking that offer when he still had the chance. He had a habit of not seizing great opportunities when they came his way and regretting his decisions later.

Then, Sherlock thought of John, tied up and blindfolded, at his mercy. The thought sent a pleasurable jolt through his body. He snaked a hand to the hem of his pants, petting the sensitive skin there. He groaned as another image entered his mind: John, sprawled on the bed, his lovely bum exposed for Sherlock's enjoyment. His hand moved lower, giving his cock a gentle stroke. He thought of bending John over the kitchen table and claiming him for the first tie. Soon, he was rock hard and leaking pre-cum. He thought of John bending him over that same table. Sherlock spit in his hand and slicked up his cock. He thought of John pushing back against his dick, begging him to go faster, harder, there! Sherlock cried out and came, staining his silk underwear.

Meanwhile, Mary was at the coffee shop down the street, sipping tea. Her mind wandered to the conversation she'd had with Sherlock that morning. It was such a shame he wasn't willing to continue their current arrangement. Mary had to admit watching those two go at it was _hot_. That thought quickly developed into a very graphic description of what she'd like to see them do. John, pounding into her as Sherlock pounded into him… She licked her lips. It would take her ages to get home. Instead, she went to the counter and asked for the key to the loo.

Once alone in the stall, Mary quickly put two fingers in her mouth. She sucked on them just to get them wet and then slipped her hand into her panties. She started rubbing her slit quickly, from left to right, over and over again. It had barely been two minutes when she'd had to muffle her cry as she came.

Looking at her watch, she decided to head back to 221 B. When she entered the flat, Sherlock was there. He gave her a look which was followed by a knowing smile. She felt a blush on her cheeks. A look to his trousers confirmed her own suspicions and she smiled right back at him.

"A few rules" he said. "First: no talking. It wouldn't be fair if you begged him to scream your name. Secondly: no re-match. If you do not accept the terms of the deal, you are welcome to disappear out of John's life right now"

Sherlock looked so deadly serious she just had to get that expression off of his face. So she kissed him. He froze against her for a second, before returning the kiss with vigor. It was then that they her the front door open. They broke apart quickly and turned to John.

"Mary, Sherlock" John greeted. He was surprised to find her at the flat since he hadn't talked to her all day.

Sherlock gave Mary a glance. 1 -1. Before he knew it, John was being pushed into a chair, his hand drawn behind his back. Mary tied a piece of cloth around his eyes. He could have fought back but didn't, intrigued by this development. "What on earth – "he was silenced by a pair of familiar lips. He moaned into the kiss, licking Mary's lips. She was putting a lot of force into it, and that caught him by surprise. "Mary!"He gasped.

1 – 2.

He heard a noise then he was being kissed again, this time by Sherlock. He was already hardening, his cock straining against his pants. Sherlock's tongue was in his mouth and it was doing wonderful things to him. After a few moments they had to break apart to breathe "Christ, Sherlock. What's gotten into you?"

2 – 2.

As if on que, two pairs of lips attacked his neck, sucking the words out of him. He felt cold metal against his skin and then his shirt was literally being cut off of him. The trousers however, were taken care of in a more traditional approach. A soft hand lay firmly of his chest. He wasn't sure whom it was. Another hand traced his scar lightly. Sherlock, then. Mary's hands massaged his leg, moving upwards. His breath hitched when he felt her pull his pants down, releasing his hardened manhood.

"Christ!"he bucked when she started stroking him. His hand strained against the cuffs. He could feel her breath night next to his cock. "Please" he whimpered, and yet was granted no response. "Mary, please".

2 – 3.

With that, she took him into her mouth. Sherlock's hands tightened on his chest and tweaked a nipple. He let out a groan and arched his back. Sherlock's lips attached themselves to his left nipple, adorning it with attention. Meanwhile, Mary was sucking on the tip of his dick. When she noticed what Sherlock was doing, she took him in deeper, moving her tongue on the underside of his dick. "God, Mary!" John nearly screamed.

2 -4.

Sherlock moved his mouth to the right nipple, and let his hand travel southwards to the base of John's dick. He wrapped his hand where Mary's mouth couldn't reach, and matched her pace. John was thrusting as much as he could, trapped by the cuffs. Soon, Sherlock left his nipples and joined Mary in sucking him. The sensation was indescribable. Two mouths eagerly working his prick made tingles run down his spine and his balls fill with release. "God!" he yelled.

One mouth went away momentarily. Then, he was being engulfed by wet, tight heat. Mary impaled herself on John's cock and wasted no time in riding him, letting out small gasps. "Mary! Mary!"John screamed.

2 – 6.

Sherlock realized he had to do something fast. Not counting the greeting out the door, John had only gasped his name once, and _Christ _did Sherlock want to hear it again. He placed his right hand next to John's mouth, pushing two digits in. John took the hint and sucked on the fingers eagerly, not really thinking about what Sherlock was going to do with them. Sherlock gasped at the sensation in his fingers, imagining John's talented mouth on his cock. _There will be plenty of time for that later _her thought _if only he could do this right_. He took the fingers out of John's mouth and moved them to John's bum, rubbing it lightly. He used his other hand to spread the cheeks apart. His fingers fluttered across John's hole, rubbing him from outside. Then, gently, he eased a single finger inside. John was so _tight_. It was incredible.

John felt Mary bounce on him, hard, and Sherlock's finger inside him made the sensation overwhelming. He cried out, this body torn between thrusting back into Sherlock or forward into Mary. Then, Mary gyrated her hips in a circular motion and that made John go deeper. "Dear god, Mary!" he panted.

2 – 7

Then, something astonishing happened. Sherlock turned his finger just _so _and touched something that sent sparks shooting through John's body. Mary slammed on him once, twice and he was coming and screaming "Sherlock! Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock!"

8 – 7.

Sherlock grinned and rose up to kiss John. It was over, and John had picked him.

Mary rose off John and removed his blind fold. John was painfully oblivious. "That was amazing! Brilliant! What was that for?" He looked at Mary and caught her somber expression.

"Hey, what's the matter? Was there something you didn't like?"

"We're over, John" She said, putting her clothes back on.

"What? Why?"

"Ask Sherlock. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to explain it all."

John looked questioningly to Sherlock. "This was an experiment, of sorts" he began "to test your unconscious reaction to both of us. To test who you felt more strongly about".

Mary nodded "Sherlock won".

John felt anger building up inside him. "You conducted an experiment on me, and didn't bother to ask for my permission? How dare you? Either of you"

Sherlock replied defensively "Well you sure as hell didn't mind it when I – " Mary cut in "It wasn't really that much of an experiment. We all knew the results. I was just along for the ride"

Sherlock looked at her, puzzled. He did not know, after hours of thinking about it, the outcomes of the experiment. How had she deduced it?

"Let me explain. I've known for a while that you wanted Sherlock. At first, I thought it was just physical and if I allowed you two to _interact_ it would be fine. It took me some time to realize it wasn't just that. I have never come first to you, John. I thought I could handle it, but I can't. I was hoping that maybe tonight you'd prove me wrong, but you didn't, and it is fine. I like you, John, but I can't come between you and Sherlock anymore".

"Who says I pick Sherlock? What if I want you?"

"You don't, John. and while I appreciate it, it's really not your choice to make. Goodbye, John"

With that, Mary left. Sherlock quickly uncuffed John, who slumped to the floor. They sat in silence for a while, before John finally spoke. "Is it true, Sherlock? Do you really want me?"

"More than anything" Sherlock replied without thinking. John held out his hand, and Sherlock took it.

Maybe it'll be okay after all.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, or each episode would look exactly like this.

A/N: Well, a lot of people asked me for an epilogue of sorts, so here you go! Have some Johnlock smut to brighten up your day. Reviews are love.

The changes were very subtle at first. There was case, and John went right back to following Sherlock around as his blogger. But when the victims' not so plain looking widow hit on him by practically shoving her hand down his pants, John politely refused. Sherlock saw the whole thing, but pretended he didn't. John played along.

When they came home, triumphant, Sherlock offered to make tea. John smiled.

They first real change came three days later, when John went to the infirmary. Sherlock followed him from the kitchen to the door. "Well, bye" said John, and turned to leave. His wrist was grabbed and he turned around just as Sherlock was leaning down. Their lips crashed. It wasn't a very gentle kiss but it was there and it was theirs. John felt the blush on his cheeks the entire day.

It became a sort of ritual for them: a good morning kiss, a goodbye kiss, a welcome-home kiss, a goodnight kiss, an I-just-really-feel-like-it kiss. John thought it was kind of weird they weren't doing anything more because they've done it before and Christ he needed it. Well, Sherlock was a mystery.

After about a week John couldn't hold it in any longer. Kissing Sherlock was doing wonderful things inside him, but he hadn't allowed himself to wank, because he knew Sherlock would know and that would just be really embarrassing. He could just picture the conversation: "_You touch yourself thinking of me" yes. "That's disgusting, John. Have you no self control?"_

However, Sherlock wasn't home and it was the perfect opportunity. John lay back on his bed, simply enjoying the softness for a while. Then, he let a hand dance over his abdomen, tweaking his nipples to hardness. He hissed letting his other hand unzip his fly and pull down his pants, releasing his half hard cock. He imagined a different hand touching him, that obscene mouth on his own, on his body, on his stiff dick. He imagined Sherlock all over him, inside, that purple shirt of sex thrown aside without consideration. God he wanted to rip that shirt off of Sherlock.

John let his mind wander. He saw himself bend Sherlock over the kitchen table, their movements making some stupid experiment spill. Sherlock wouldn't care, he'd be way past caring, the heath and fullness making him forget all about his science. John bucked. John bucked into his fist.

Suddenly, he heard the front door open, and Sherlock's familiar stride. "John" he heard a call. That velvety voice was the thing that pushed him over the edge. As soon as he regained his senses he called back "In my room. I'll be out in a sec". He cleaned up quickly and zipped up his pants. Looking in the mirror, he saw he looked way too flushed and sweaty to pretend he'd just taken a nap. Sherlock would know.

John took a deep breath and opened the door. Sherlock was right outside, looking incredible in a navy blue tight shirt and jeans that were painted on that glorious arse. Sherlock blinked at John the smiled "You touched yourself". His voice sounded predatory. "Thinking of me".

John nodded in the affirmative. It was exactly what he had feared. The silence seemed to stretch on forever. Suddenly, Sherlock made a quick movement towards John and captured his lips with his own. There was intent behind that kiss. John couldn't help but moan. His over sensitive cock gave a jolt of interest. Sherlock's hands were everywhere: under his shirt, pulling it off, in his hair, yanking him closer. John leaned back and the door opened behind them. They stumbled into John's bedroom and onto the bed. Before John had the chance to think things over he was naked save for his pants. Sherlock was in a similar condition. Sherlock kissed him with the same frenzy that characterized his work. He was completely focused, yet analyzing hundreds of details simultaneously. It was mesmerizing. John just stared for a minute and thought it couldn't get any better. Then, Sherlock thrust against him. John yelped, feeling himself harden again, as if he was a teenager. He sneaked a hand between Sherlock's legs and rubbed his cock through his pants. Sherlock thrust forward, against John. The both groaned at the contact.

John regained his mind just for enough time to ask "Sherlock, we haven't.. maybe we should talk about.."

Sherlock silenced him with a kiss. He licked a stripe to his jaw line, and then nibbled at his ear. " I want you inside me" He whispered, sending a shiver down John's spine. "Dear god" John whispered back. He flipped the over so he was on top of Sherlock and started exploring his abdomen. The vast expanse of pale flesh under him held so many possibilities. John wanted to know every muscle and nerve ending. He licked Sherlock's pectoral muscle, enjoying how smooth it was under his tongue. He placed a tender kiss on it and moved downwards, licking around Sherlock's right nipple. He wanted it to last forever. Sherlock had other plans. He made and impatient growl and grabbed John's hair, pulling him off. John looked up with a smirk. "John" Sherlock said warningly

"Fine. Don't get your panties in a twist" he said and pinched Sherlock's nipple. Sherlock cried out and arched off the bed. John licked a stripe along Sherlock's abdomen, stopping just above the pant line. Sherlock bucked forward, signalling to John to get on with it. John obliged, pushing Sherlock's pants down and taking him into his mouth. His mouth was stretched wide and he was fighting his gag reflex but then Sherlock made a small sound at the back of his throat and it was all worth it. John sank down as far as he could go and then came back up for air. Sherlock practically screamed when he went down again and he managed to hold his breath even longer. Sherlock was panting when he came up. "John, please".

"John smiled and sucked two fingers into his mouth. He released them with a pop and licked Sherlock from base to tip. Sherlock bucked up, which gave John access to that lovely arse of his. He circled the entrance for awhile, not breaching it, while licking Sherlock up and down. Finally, he let his middle finger slide into Sherlock, through the ring of muscle. Sherlock moaned, thrusting into John's mouth. John took that as a good sign and wriggled his finger in and out. Sherlock's enthusiastic yelp proved him right. John licked the vein under Sherlock's cock, and entered yet another finger into him. He started scissoring them apart, making sure Sherlock was stretched and ready for him. He carefully avoided Sherlock's prostate, just to tease him, then finally rubbed it with the tip of his finger. Sherlock's eyes rolled back and he moaned something that was between "please", "now" and "John".

John pulled his own pants down. He reached into his bedside drawer and pulled out a small bottle of lube. He slicked himself up then rubbed the tip of his cock against Sherlock's entrance. Christ, he wanted to be so close to that man. It was so incredible that he was given that privilege, knowing Sherlock inside and out. A groan brought him back to the beautiful sight of Sherlock spread out beneath him.

John lifted Sherlock's hips and Sherlock wrapped his legs around John's waist. Slowly, John slid into Sherlock's ready body. Sherlock's breath hitched. He felt full, so incredibly complete. When John was sheathed deep inside him, he leaned down and kissed him. Sherlock felt his eyes close on their own accord. "Fuck, Sherlock" John whispered against his mouth "You feel incredible. So tight. Sherlock replied with one word: "Move"

John saw the ferocity behind Sherlock's eyes. He pulled his hips back until only his tip was inside Sherlock and then thrust back in with force, Sherlock made an appreciative sound. He did that a few more times and then began making short, deep thrusts. He angled them in the direction he thought Sherlock's prostate was. Judging by Sherlock's response, he got it right on the first go.

He was rambling. "Christ Sherlock, you feel so good. Darn you are beautiful. God, Sherlock". Sherlock smiled and only responded with "Harder". John did his best to comply and soon Sherlock had lost all ability to talk. He was falling apart, only John holding him in place. He was so, so close. With a well angled thrust Sherlock came, his spunk covering his own stomach as well as John's. John thrust in a couple more times and then shuddered inside Sherlock, feeling closer to him than ever.

Slowly, he pulled out, and lay back on the bed, holding Sherlock to him. Sherlock's mind was blissfully blank. As he closed his eyed, he felt John take his hand into his own, and squeeze. He squeezed back and fell asleep in John's arms.


End file.
